High-Functioning But Drained: The Quiet Trauma and Emotional Exhaustion of Being ‘The Strong One”
Let me get honest with you for a second.
If you're reading this, there’s a very real chance you’re the person everyone depends on — at work, at home, in crises, during the holidays, all of it.
You’re the one who steps up, holds steady, keeps things moving, and makes sure nothing falls apart.
And I say this not just as a trauma therapist who works with people like you every day — but as someone who has lived in that role myself:
Being the strong one gets heavy.
Especially right now.
Because during the holidays, the emotional weight you carry doesn't just increase — it multiplies.
So let’s name the thing no one ever says out loud.
You’re the one who makes things happen.
Depending on what you do, that looks different — but the emotional load?
It’s the same.
You might be one of the airline professionals who keep the entire world moving.
You’re the reason planes take off and land safely.
You’re the reason passengers make it home to their families.
You’re the reason their luggage ends up where it’s supposed to go.
Nobody sees the pressure you’re under… they only see the delay if something goes wrong.
You might be medical staff — a nurse, doctor, tech, or mental health provider — who walks into an overflowing ER or unit as everyone else is sitting around holiday tables.
You’re the one holding someone else’s loved one while yours eats dinner without you.
You might be a first responder — missing bedtime stories, missing Christmas morning, missing family time — because you’re out responding to someone else’s worst day.
You might be part of a military family, separated from the people you love while pretending you’re “fine,” because that’s what the job demands.
Or you’re the spouse at home carrying everything alone while your partner is deployed or TDY.
Or maybe you’re the badass high-functioning professional who looks like they have it all together — the job, the leadership, the calm exterior — while internally you’re running on fumes, holding everything together with grit and muscle memory.
But the common thread?
Everyone counts on you.
No one checks on you.
And I know this isn’t something you say out loud.
Because you’re the one who:
“just handles it”
gets it done no matter what
doesn’t drop the ball
doesn’t fall apart
doesn’t inconvenience anyone
keeps your shit together even when you’re screaming inside
People look at you and assume you’re built for pressure.
They assume you’re “wired differently.”
They assume you’re okay… because you always push through.
But here’s the truth — spoken from someone who sees behind the armor every day:
Just because you can carry it doesn’t mean you should have to.
And it definitely doesn’t mean you’re not falling apart inside.
Holiday Stress Hits Us Harder (Yes, Us)
During the holidays, your role intensifies:
airline professionals are covering holiday travel surges
healthcare workers are drowning in patient influx
first responders are handling crisis after crisis
military members and families are navigating distance and loss
leaders and executives are closing out fiscal-year pressure
dispatchers are absorbing everyone else’s emergencies
the high-functioning strong one is keeping everyone else afloat
Meanwhile, your nervous system is quietly unraveling.
People think you’re fine because you look fine. You say “I’m fine.”
But the inside story?
It’s a completely different reality.
You’re exhausted.
You’re overstimulated.
Your body is bracing 24/7.
Your patience is thin.
Your emotions feel either too big or completely gone.
Your sleep is trash.
Your focus is scattered.
Your heart hurts and you don’t know where to put it.
That’s not failure, abnormality, or normal.
That’s physiology.
That’s trauma + stress + responsibility + burnout.
That’s the cost of being the person everyone counts on.
Here’s the part you probably don’t say out loud — but I know it’s true:
You might be the one running the airport operation… and also quietly breaking down in the car before your shift.
You might be the nurse caring for strangers… while craving someone to finally care for you.
You might be the firefighter who feels guilty for wanting one damn night at home without chaos.
You might be the military spouse holding your family together… while wishing someone would ask you how you’re surviving.
You might be the executive running a team… while feeling like you’re one breath away from shutting down.
You might be the pilot who flies hundreds safely every week… but has nowhere to land emotionally yourself.
And you might be the quiet badass who looks strong but feels cracked open inside — and nobody knows.
I see you.
I get it.
And you’re not alone in this.
So what do you do when you’re the one no one checks on?
Here’s the part where I want to speak directly to you — not as a therapist writing a blog, but as a human who actually understands this role:
1. Stop pretending you’re fine when you’re not. It’s not a badge of honor.
Even if the only person you admit it to right now is yourself.
2. Give your nervous system small moments of survival. Find something relaxing and stabilizing.
Not perfection.
Not self-care culture.
Thirty seconds can shift an entire day.
3. Let one person in one inch. Yeah, I know, hard as hell and way too vulnerable….but do it anyway.
Not the whole story.
Just enough to break the isolation.
4. Set boundaries your nervous system can live with.
Especially right now.
5. Get support that doesn’t require you to perform strength.
This space — with me — is the opposite of what the world demands from you.
With me, you get to be tired.
You get to be overwhelmed.
You get to be human.
And I can carry some of the weight with you.
You’ve carried enough alone.
If you want a place where you don’t have to be the strong one for once — a place where you can actually set the weight down — you’re welcome to reach out.
— Adrienne
